Hidden
by infinite.regress17
Summary: This is some of my earlier work, that I thought I'd post for fun. It's a quick one shot exploring what happens, or might happen, during those times when the Doctor and Clara find themselves having to run and hide.


The Doctor took Clara to the circus, in ancient Rome.

'You just had to, didn't you!' Clara yelled, as a spear soared over their heads.

'I didn't know!' He pulled her into a tiny alcove.

Angry voices. Outside, close, too close.

"My foot!" he yelped, as she trod on his toes.

"Hush!" she hissed.

He held his breath and finally the voices receded into the distance. It was tight, in the alcove, but with luck, they'd be safe hidden here for a minute or two. Then they could slip back to the TARDIS.

She was breathing fast, probably from the running.

So was he, from the running, probably.

She was so close her hair tickled his chin, and her scent filled his senses.

He wondered, _what will happen if I kiss her?_

The blast of an energy weapon crackled overhead as they hurtled along the corridor, and the steady thrum of a spacecraft at light-speed pulsed under foot. They turned a corner, found a door, and he pulled her into a hiding place. An inter-galactic broom cupboard, stuffed with space-age vacuums, cleaning fluid and spare loo rolls, as it turned out.

'Did you _have_ to say that to the ambassador?' she hissed.

'How was I supposed to know he'd be so easily offended?'

They were tucked in tight, but if they waited a few minutes they could slip back past the robo-droids to the TARDIS. Only, she was so close, a breath more and her chest would touch his. She pressed closer, her hand on his waist just above his hip, for comfort, perhaps, after all the blasting death-rays.

She was breathing fast, probably from the running.

So was he, from the running, probably.

She looked up at him. It might have been invitation to hold her, and he wondered how would it feel to fold her in his arms, crush her close to his chest, and kiss her long and deep.

 _Viva la revolution!_

It was a dusky evening at the Palace of Versailles. They spent the day avoiding Madame Guillotine and were keen to keep right on avoiding her. As the crack of a musket whizzed past their heads Clara hitched up her full length skirt, the better to run, and grabbed him by the hand.

'Quick, in here.' She pulled him though an ornate gilded door, into a room that wasn't poky and cramped for once, but a sumptuous chamber with deep carpets and a huge bed, and mirrors, mirrors everywhere.

She perched on the side of the bed, and looked in his direction, with her red dress splayed around her.

He said, 'I think we'll be safe here, if we hide a while then go back...' He noticed her chest heaving in the V of the neckline, and her face flush, so prettily, probably from the hectic day they'd had. He felt his own breath catch and heat flashed to his face. From the hectic day. Probably.

He cleared his throat. He was the Doctor, and it was his job to fight monsters, not _notice_ things like smooth skin and opal eyes.

He turned his head away.

But in this room of mirrors there were 101 Clara's, hair loose on her shoulders, eyes sparkling, perfect skin disappearing into the V of that dress. He wondered, what would it be like, to stride across the room right now, cup her face, crush her lips, push her beneath him onto that bed?

Would she smile and ask, 'What took you so long?'

It felt like they had been running forever over the blue grass, under a purple sky, with rocks shining like diamonds and the river a living rainbow cutting through the open countryside. The balmy air, laden with a mix of the local flowers, sweetsuckle and nightdrift, seemed to promise something. Soon the sun would slip below the horizon and two moons would rise and cast their silver light on the water.

'Let's take a breath,' she gasped. They found a sheltered spot at the mouth of a tiny cave, and sank into the mossy floor. As they watched the darkening sky and waited for the sunset, she took his hand, laced her fingers through his, and leaned against his shoulder.

He wondered, what would she say if I tell her I love her, ask her to give me everything, not just Wednesdays?

He was a hunter. They had been here, the kitchen was full of clues; cornflakes, crumbs, coffee, and a muddle of laundry waiting for the wash; socks, big, small and smaller.

He paced the sitting room, and passed a pile of school books with a sonic screwdriver and a small plastic spaceship balanced on top. More clues. He picked up the spaceship.

He padded through the blue doors, across the console room and past the bookshelf. Jane Eyre, Advanced Temporal Mechanics, and Time Lord Fairy Tales, sent him deeper into the heart of TARDIS.

He prowled the corridors, tracking this trail or that. It was as if the TARDIS _wanted_ him to find them, corridors subtly shifted, and when he paused by a wall, a door appeared that wasn't there before.

He listened. Two voices behind the door. 'Hush!' then silence.

He opened the door.

He said, 'You can't hide from me! I counted much higher than ten, and I found you easily!' He looked around the poky room, full of boxes and old clothes. 'What were you _doing_ hiding _here_?'

His father crouched down to his height. 'Do you really want to know?'

The little boy nodded solemnly.

'I was kissing mummy,' his father said, and ruffled his hair.

He flung both his hands to his eyes and squealed, 'Ewww!' Then turned and trundled off along the corridor, swooping his space ship through the air as he went.

…they were in ancient Rome, a spear soared over their heads and they ducked into a tiny alcove. It was tight, but with luck, they could hide here a minute or two, then slip back to the TARDIS. She was so close her hair tickled his chin, and her scent filled his senses. He wondered…

The thing with wondering is this: your mind wanders a merry dance, and then you find yourself back _exactly where you were_.

Hidden.

He waited, and wondered some more. Dare I?

Then he took a deep breath, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her.

He waited, hearts thumping, to find out what would happen.

She her locked eyes with his, and her face flushed the most delightful shade of red. She pressed a hand to his chest, and whispered, 'It's about time. I've often wondered, while we hide, why you've never kissed me.'

'No more hiding then,' he said, and pulled her into his arms.

'No more hiding, Doctor,' she said, pulling him closer. 'Now, kiss me again.'

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